


Insensitive Nipples

by Maggie_Conagher



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bad Sex, Bad Writing, Hand Jobs, Lube, M/M, Nipple Play, Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 18:56:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3219788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maggie_Conagher/pseuds/Maggie_Conagher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John experiment with bad sex. I experiment with bad writing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insensitive Nipples

John Watson slid the shirt the color of an erect penis off Sherlock’s shoulders. The dusky purple garment fell to the floor as the older man caressed the taller man’s chest. “Jaisus, you’re pale as a corpse, almost blue.”

“I am a creature of the night.”

“You are not a vampire.”

“No, but I don’t get out much during the day. Why are you doing that?”

“What, this?” the doctor questioned as he rubbed his thumbs over and over the detective’s nipples. “Nipple play. Some find it arousing.”

“It’s not unpleasant.” Sherlock stood, gazing around the room at crime scene photos pinned to the wall. “Perhaps it takes awhile to have an effect?”

“If you’re sensitive, you would feel the results instantly.”

“I suppose like the rest of me, my nipples are insensitive.”

“Mmmm, I deduce you may need more stimulation.” John who had been to three continents thus earning the nickname, Three Continents Watson, pressed eager lips to his companion’s nipple.

“I won’t lactate if that’s what you’re after, and I honestly resent your constant whinging for milk. We might ask Mrs. Hudson if we can keep a cow by her bins if you’re that lactose deprived.”

“This is about pleasure.”

“For whom?”

“For you. Bloody hell, never mind.”

“No, please continue. I’ve confessed my affections and I’m willing to help you along in any perversion that you fancy. If your suckling becomes tiresome, I’ll simply go to my mind palace.”

“And what will you gain from the experience?”

Sherlock’s eyes darted about and his mouth was pursed in that way he had when he was holding in an insult.

“Don’t hold back on my account.”

“If you’re suckling, you’re not complaining. I like the quiet.”

John stooped to retrieve the purple shirt that now reminded him of a subdural hematoma that he would like to inflict on a certain consultant of the detective sort. “Like most of your other experiments, this one has gone horribly wrong and something got burned.”

“Are you saying that you’re on fire with passion?”

“That’s been rather soundly quenched.”

“What if I touched your penis?”

“It might help.”

Sherlock waved his hand in a circular motion as if to say get on with it but John Watson got off with it, the ’it’ being his trousers. He had no compunction about peeling off his pants either. and he kicked them under his chair with a festive flick of his foot similar to that of calves in spring cavorting in a meadow. 

Sherlock grabbed hold gamely, staring down with an intensity that made the man whose cock was being grasped take notice. When Sherlock continued to stare without moving his hand, the good doctor began to feel self conscious, wishing his ancient and graying briefs were back on his arse.

“Something wrong?”

“I thought it would be bigger.”

“It is proportionate to my size,” Watson said through gritted teeth as the member in question shrunk even further under scrutiny.

“Can you achieve an erection?”

“Trying to.”

“How can I help?”

“Why don’t you wave it about like the bloody Union Jack, you daft twat?”

“You’re using dirty talk. Very good, John, although your tone is rather offputting.”

Sherlock moved his fingers up and down John’s rodlike protruberance as if he were playing the violin, the calluses he had acquired from said playing had rendered his fingertips nearly insensate but he soldiered on. The deadened skin cells proved to be scratchy against John’s most sensitive skin but the rough treatment appealed to his yet unexplored submissive side. Mostly he was just glad to have someone else’s hand there since his sex life was dryer than the desert of Aghanistan and his bed was colder than the nights in that wartorn country.

In spite of his humiliation or perhaps because of it, John got hard. As hard as the cheese on the third shelf of the refrigerator next to the small jar of toes.

“That’s better. I won’t need my magnifying glass.” Sherlock put one hand on his ample hip and continued to move the other hand up and down as best he could but although the skin moved back and forth, there was not as much friction as John would have liked. 

John got a bit sweaty and Sherlock’s hand kept skittering as it stuck to the skin. Sherlock rummaged around under the foreskin for a bit and then tried to pump the penis once more. John groaned as Sherlock’s manicured but overly long fingernails grazed the head of his purple python. Whatever his goal, Sherlock had not achieved it and he was still able to make only slow damp strokes that clung and chafed.

“I think we need lube,” John finally said.

“Smegma and pre-ejaculate not enough then?” Sherlock asked quizzically.

“Sometimes but not today.”

“I’ll get the stuff you use when you masturbate.”

John was trying to get some feeling back into his genital yogurt dispenser when Sherlock returned with a nearly empty tube. “This was full on Monday. You have been busy.”

“One man’s busy is another man’s frustrated.”

“What do we have around the flat that has the same chemical properties as this lubricant?” Sherlock started to unroll the tube to check the list of ingredients.

John noticed the room was cooling in temperature. “Sherlock, we need to get on with it.”

“Yes, I can see that. You’re already at half mast.”

Sherlock banged cupboard doors and something broke in the sink before he returned with a dark bottle.

“Please do not use treacle or liniment on me and furniture polish is right out.”

Then John’s weary love dodger was bathed in something slick that Sherlock’s hand warmed rapidly as it passed with ease over and over the beleaguered shaft. He was just starting to enjoy himself when an overwhelming urge to eat a Greek salad passed over him with the wafting aroma of garlic scented oil.

Sherlock lifted his free hand to consult his watch, as consulting detectives are wont to do. “You may begin.”

John’s first blow job had been behind the pizzeria where he had a part time job to put himself through uni so the scent of garlic proved a ready aphrodisiac. He spurted through Sherlock’s fingers onto the silk shirt on the floor.

“So much for that ensemble,” the tallest man in the room said. “Once we found the appropriate chemicals, you escalated quite quickly. Well done, John.”

Sherlock patted him on the shoulder, unfortunately with his sperm and oil covered hand.

“Thank you,” John said, pulling his briefs back on, wincing as they came in contact with his raw, limp penis.

“I’d like to go again after your refractory period to see if you can beat your previous time. While you rest, I’m going to the shops for more olive oil.” Sherlock shrugged into his coat, oblivious to the fact that he was bare chested.

“If you’re going to the shops, get some lube.”

“What good is the experiment if we introduce other variables?” The young detective flung his scarf over his shoulder and prepared to exit his first sexual encounter with a man or anyone for that matter, including himself.

John counted as Sherlock’s bespoke shoes tapped down each of the many steps. The front door opened but then quickly closed. The doctor smiled, thinking that his friend and cock concierge had realized his dishabille and was returning to rectify himself.

Sherlock’s dark curls appeared around the open door followed by his forehead. With a wink he said, “Next time, let’s dispense with all that business about the nipples. I’ll buy milk while I’m out.”


End file.
